Flair
by Thefall5
Summary: Still under development, heavily thinking about a redo. Chapter 1. A guy being bad.


My feet scrape over the ground, kicking up rotten leafs and dust. I look at my hands, but I only see the scars that have been haunting me in my dreams since a long time. I look up at the sky, and determine the time. "A working watch would have been great," I mutter. I turn into a alley, and immediatly get punched in the face by the smell of urine. I come across a small gang who are sitting on beaten, gray trashcans that haven't been used for more then a year. The walls who were once white, have now been fully painted with graffity, and the painted colors is long gone. As they start to notice me, they soon realise who I am and immediatly continue doing what they were doing. Smart. But it seems that the youngest of the group, a boy who was about 14 years old, hadn't realised, as it was coming at me with a knife. "No... Come back! You idiot!" the leader of the group screamed. I smiled at him. I was so bored, this would help a bit.

There was blood on my hands, clothes and face, but I didn't care. I had some excitement, and that was more then enough for me. But as I would soon blend in with the normal people, I needed to at least fresh myself up a bit. I walked over to one of the body's and used his clothes a towel, before going through his pockets to see if he had some valuable stuff with him. Nothing. As I notice that the red stains on his clothes are rapidly increasing, I remember that this was the person that lasted the longest, and that I had the most fun with. His pitch-black hair and black eyes gave him a kind of raven-like look, one that I had immediatly disliked. And that's were all the blood came from. I hear some muthering from behind, and as I walk over I immediatly realise where the sound came from. I look at the kid that wanted to fight me, and immediatly look away. While it was a really good method to start a fight, I didn't like beating kids. It felt like something that was totally against the universe. But I was surprised, while I only kicked him almost none of my power, it was a devastating blow, completely knocking him out. Seems like my leg healed perfectly. I get my cellphone out of my pocket, call 911, pass through the address and continue walking untill I reach a door. Knock knock. I hear a metallic sound as the lock of the door gets opened up, and a small peephole opens up. I quickly step to the right and push my back against the wall.  
"Who's there?" I hear from behind the door.  
"It's Caine." I say.  
"Ah, Caine, welcome back. Why do you always hide for my eyes?"  
"Manner of habit." It's not entirely true, but not false either.  
I stap back infront of the door and step inside. A nice ooze of wind brushes my face. The chamber I'm standing in is about 5 meters big, it's like a office, furnitured with a simple leather couch, snack table, chair and a small refrigerator. While the room has got a lot of windows, it's illuminated awkwardly, causing a kind of suppressing atmosphere.  
"Sit down" I hear from behind. I almost forgot him, thinking like that. I turn around and look over to the owner of the voice. Not for the first time I think that the guy I'm looking at is a intergalactic being, with his dreadlocks, fat body, a really monsterious dividation of his head and lower body, and above all, his heavily burned face.  
"I prefer standing... Fatty." Insults have become our way of greeting each other, but it's rather helpful, as I forgot his name over time.  
"Whatever you want, MOFO." His name starts with a D. I think.  
"Anything new?"  
"The Titans have declared a war on the Skulls ." That is rather stupid... I frown without realizing it. "The Titans have way more members and weapons then the Skulls. "What could they ever get from fighting with such a weak gang..." I mutter. But as those words leave my mouth, I realize what they want.  
"No... The only thing they could gain from that is territorium and a bit of cash. So the only thing they could get from that i-"  
I hear the sound of a gun getting enabled. The cold steal touches my head, as I raise my hands and slowly turn around.  
"Hey Caine, have I ever told you about my biggest fear?" The point of the gun is touching my forehead. I wasn't even surprised. After all, you can trust nobody here.  
"Let me guess... Mefobia? Don't be afraid, that will never, ever happen with you."  
"Hahaha, still the same Caine as ever. I was just joking dude, chillax. Want a beer?" I knew he was just playing a joke on me. And otherwise, even with a gun, he could do nothing to me.  
"Sure, thanks." D hands me a opened bottle of beer, and I take a big gulp from the liquid.  
"So, what was your biggest fear then?" I ask as I sit down on the couch.  
D closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "This life man. This live of ours. We are never safe. Yeah, it may make us a lot of cash, but cash doesn't protect us. You, more then anyone else, should know that. Isn't that right... scar-man?"  
I shake my head. "I thought I was clear that you would never call me that again. It makes me sick just hearing it."  
"How is it with you then? Is it healing?"  
I gave him one of my angriest looks I had, and said "The doctor prescribed some medicine and ointment, but I still wake up screaming in pain at night... Does that answer your question?"  
"Cou... Could I see it?" He was trembling, because he knew I had already beat up someone who did less than that.  
I sighed. "I guess piggy kan see it." I stood up and turned around, while taking up my T-shirt. I had never looked at it myself, the as I heard 27 scars on my chest. I always spread the ointment on the places were it hurts, everywhere. It was a burning, never-ending pain. I slowly turned around while keeping my head at the same angle.  
I heard a surprised hiccup, which was immediately followed by his silence.  
"How bad is it?" I asked.  
"I'm sorry man... But I can still see all 27 of them... I don't think they will ever go awa-"  
"I don't care if the scars go away or not. I just want the fucking pain to leave my body!" I wanted to continue screaming about how painly it was, and about how I had tried to commit suicide just to leave all the pain behind. How I sometimes woke up, crying, heavily sweating. But I couldn't. That would be a sign of weakness. And that is the only thing you can't show in this world.

==End==


End file.
